Patsy nodded. ‘It was common knowledge Corey resented Lucinda’s career in politics. He’d already lost a father, and now here was his mother throwing herself into the most time-consuming career possible. Probably he got involved with the wrong people somewhere, South Padre or Galveston or Mexico, and ended up dead.’
Whit made a leap of faith that Patsy would stick to her word about being off the record. ‘Do you remember Corey and Jabez Jones being particular friends?’
Tim faked puking. ‘It annoys me no end that what Port Leo is going to be known for on television is an ex-wrestler who performs ab crunches while quoting Scripture.’
‘You know, if my memory’s not fading with age, Jabez was the last person to talk to Corey,’ Patsy said. ‘I covered it in the high school paper.’
‘Could you do me a huge favor and dig up the clippings from when Corey vanished?’ Whit asked.
‘Nothing more you can say?’ Patsy asked.
‘No. Can I still have the clippings?’
‘This is why God made little retired ladies bored enough to do schlepp work at the Mariner. Sure, but what will you do for me?’ Patsy asked.
‘I’ll call you as soon as I have prelim autopsy results,’ Whit promised.
Patsy smiled. Like the Aztec goddesses, blood placated her.
Claudia had just finished showering after four hours of fidgety sleep when the knock came at her door. She pulled on her robe, wrapped her heavy black hair in a towel, and peered through the door’s security hole.
David.
She had not seen him since he walked alongside her down the county courthouse hallway, saying quietly, Listen, I’m sorry you did this, Claud. You know I still love you. Her attorney had tucked a hand on her elbow and steered her away, past the flyers and the benches and the secretary puzzling over a soda choice at the Coke machine and out to the bright fall light, the morning haze burning to wisps over the bay. She had walked in married and walked out free and clear. She had gotten in her car, suddenly flustered and near weeping, and driven halfway across Port Leo toward the home they shared before she remembered she didn’t live there anymore.
But she did still live in Port Leo, and both she and David were peace officers. Why not grab the inevitable by the throat and give it a good shake? She opened the door.
‘Morning,’ David Power said. He’d gotten his auburn hair cropped shorter than usual. He wore his Encina County deputy’s uniform, and she noticed the creases were flattened. She had tended his uniform for him, since he’d burn his hand if he got within ten feet of an iron. Dark circles daubed the fleshiness beneath his eyes, and he’d missed a patch of reddish bristle on his jaw during his shave.
‘Good morning. What’s up?’ Keep it brief, keep it polite.
‘Just wanted to see if you were okay. I heard about the Hubble case.’
‘Short on sleep, but fine.’
David shifted his beige Stetson from one hand to the other. ‘You know, if y’all need help, the sheriff’s department, we’re glad to assist.’
‘Thanks. It’s under control.’ She didn’t say anything further, and he massaged the brim of his hat, drumming his fingertips against the band.
‘Everything okay in your new place?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, sure.’ She knew he wanted to be invited in, but she didn’t want him in the little space she had staked out for her own. She drew the robe a little tighter around her front in atypical modesty.
His voice lowered. ‘Jesus, Claud, I’ve seen your skin before. Remember Padre?’
They had honeymooned on South Padre, the mightiest and most beautiful of the long chain of Texas barrier islands, and unfortunately it had been the best time in the marriage, a week away from both their cloying families, a week away from car wrecks and burglaries and speeding tickets. David loved to invoke Padre, as if teeth-chilling margaritas, orange-bright sunsets, and spine-rattling sex could serve as the basis for the rest of their lives.
‘David…’
His blue eyes narrowed and his fleshy mouth thinned. ‘You’re alone, right?’
‘I told you there’s no one.’
‘Right. I never hit you. Took wonderful care of you. Never cheated on you. You just don’t love me anymore. Same old, same old.’
‘Are you coming to check up on me, spy on me, or belittle me?’ She kept her voice neutral.
David Power’s jaw worked. ‘Check on you. Sorry. I crossed a line. It still hurts. It’s gonna hurt for… an indeterminate period of time. I don’t want to hurt you back, Claudia.’
‘I’m sorry for your hurt. I am. But we’ve had this discussion a hundred times before, and there’s no point in rehashing.’
Her phone rang and she said, ‘Look, I’ve got to get going…’ and he said, ‘I need to ask you about something else…’ so she shrugged and said, ‘Wait a sec…’ and hurried to the telephone.
‘Hello?’
‘Claudia Salazar?’ A throaty woman’s voice but brisk as a Marine.
‘Yes, who’s callling?’
‘Hold please,’ ordered Captain Brisk. Instead of Muzak there was a recorded, sleek baritone, with soft strains of ‘America the Beautiful’ playing in the background. The voice intoned: ‘Proven leadership for the Texas Coastal Bend… Senator Lucinda Hubble. Democrat. Moderate. Protecting our children. Protecting our elderly. Protecting our precious coastal ecology and protecting our health care while protecting our economy.’ Lots of protection. Claudia wondered if the faithful automatically wore condoms during rallies. ‘A former nurse. Senator Hubble especially understands the needs and concerns of our retiree population. Vote November seventh to reelect Senator Lucinda Hub-’
The verbal pabulum broke off. ‘Ms Salazar?’ Not Miss Brisk, but instead a confident, bright voice.
‘Yes, this is Detective Salazar.’ Claudia had a sudden feeling she was going to need the title. She turned and saw David had stepped inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him, and he blanched as she used her maiden name. She had been Claudia Power for the twenty-two months of the marriage, but no more, and David in particular seemed to take her revived surname as a hard slap.
The voice on the phone honeyed slightly. ‘Detective. Good morning. This is Faith Hubble. I’m Senator Hubble’s chief of staff.’
‘I’m sorry about your ex-husband, Ms Hubble.’
‘Thank you. It’s a terrible tragedy. My mother-in-law and my son are having a difficult time with Pete’s death.’
And you’re not? Claudia wondered. ‘That’s understandable.’
‘I’d like to meet with you and find out where we are in the investigation.’
We, Claudia noticed, as though Faith Hubble were busily lifting prints and completing paperwork into the wee hours. ‘We’ve collected a certain amount of evidence, but we don’t as yet have autopsy results. I would like to talk with you and your family as soon as possible.’
‘Talking with Lucinda – is that absolutely necessary? She’s absolutely grief-stricken. And we already gave our statements to Delford Spires.’
‘Yes, ma’am, and I’m sure this is a difficult time for you all but, yes, I do need to speak with her, as will Judge Mosley.’
‘Perhaps you and I could meet first. To discuss how to deal with the media.’
Claudia watched David inspecting her bare apartment, his face emotionless. ‘We already have policies in place, ma’am.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do, but this is far more high-profile than a drunken tourist drowning, and there’s already been serious news leaks,’ Faith said. ‘Let’s meet in an hour, shall we, at your office?’
‘Fine.’ Let them meet to discuss the press, but Claudia would seize the opportunity for a frank discussion with the dead man’s former wife.
‘See you in an hour.’ Faith Hubble hung up.
Claudia clicked off the phone. David stood at the apartment’s large window, looking at the parking lot. ‘You should have gotten a bay view, Claudia.’
‘I’ve seen the bay every day of my life,’ she said. She didn’t want to mention she couldn’t afford a bay view on her single-woman salary. ‘Thanks for stopping by, but duty calls.’